


All My Tomorrows

by finefeatheredfriend



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Choking, Dominant Sex, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Miscommunication, Spanking, Tarben gets jealous, the fluff comes after the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/pseuds/finefeatheredfriend
Summary: Tarben finds himself growing increasingly jealous as Eivor spends time with other Vikings. Sure that Eivor does not want to be with him, he awaits the inevitable breakup and confrontation, only to be surprised by what Eivor has to say. Oneshot Eivor/Tarben short story.
Relationships: Eivor/Tarben (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 168





	All My Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> I know I tagged it, but there is definitely some anger and angst in this one, as well as depressed/angry thoughts and unhealthy coping using rough sex. Consider yourself warned.

Tarben knew what Eivor smelled like. Leather, sweat, and spicy deadnettle. Not pine sap. Not lavender oil and something citrusy. Eivor had not smelled like Eivor when last he had returned to the village after the wedding of a new Saxon king to his Dane wife. He had been bright-eyed, his hands firm and hard as he had greeted him...

“Tarben,” Eivor had purred in that soft but gravelly voice of his, his eyes hooded and sparkling from the firelight.

“It is good to see you, my love,” Tarben answered honestly, but something was off...his scent. Eivor stepped quickly up to him, as though desperate, like a starving man sprinting to a feast. His hands first cupped Tarben's face, then they flitted down, squeezing at Tarben's belly, one rubbing hard over his groin while the other kneaded the hard muscle of his ass. Eivor shoved him and tugged him, slamming him into the wall with a heady moan as he kissed Tarben roughly.

Even his taste was wrong. There was mead there, but also an odd tang. Some new food?

 _Some new person?_ Tarben wondered with a jolt of disgust. As he thought this, he felt guilty. He trusted Eivor. Didn't he? Just then Eivor bit his lip hard, hard enough to draw blood.

“Shit, Eivor,” Tarben snapped, pulling his head back so quickly his skull hit the wall with a thud. “That stings.” Eivor looked hurt, his eyes softening and the edges of his lips curling down in a frown.

“I'm sorry, love, I just...I need you...right now. I need you inside me. Please,” he growled, undoing his pants and turning away from Tarben as he pulled them down over his ass, baring his pale skin to the night air, gooseflesh rising as a cool wind trickled into the window of Tarben's bakery. Tarben put a hand to his lip, unsurprised to see blood on his fingers. “Tarben,” Eivor whined, looking over his shoulder and sliding his fist up and down in a slow rhythm over his thickening cock.

Tarben let the monster inside him take control for a moment.

“You want this?” he asked, setting his jaw and pulling himself out of his pants, his voice hard. He slapped his cock against Eivor's backside and grabbed Eivor's braid, yanking his head back roughly.

“Yes!” Eivor whined, his hips bucking. Tarben wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking himself until he was hard and ready to take Eivor. He reined in his unsubstantiated anger and poured a drizzle of oil over himself, sliding his fingers expertly inside of Eivor and working him to readiness as the smaller man moaned and trembled, pinned where he was by one of Tarben's hands still tangled in his hair.

Tarben took Eivor fast and powerfully, his big hips slamming into Eivor's smaller ones, enjoying the sight of Eivor straddling his legs out to the sides to accommodate his girth. He reveled in the whines and keening moans he stroked out of Eivor as he pulled his hair with every slap of his hips against Eivor's asscheeks. With his free hand, Tarben abruptly slapped Eivor's haunches, eliciting a yelp of surprise from his partner.

“Do that again! Punish me!”

 _For what?_ Tarben thought darkly. He obliged, his massive palm swinging in an arc that popped against Eivor's round ass, leaving a red welt in the shape of his hand. A growl escaped Tarben's throat and all that violence he had left behind him welled up in the form of a furious, desperate anger born of jealousy. He didn't even know for sure if Eivor had been with another man or woman, but the very idea of it enraged him. He loosed his fingers from Eivor's hair and turned the smaller man around, shoving him onto his worktable and entering him again once he had settled Eivor's calves on his shoulders.

Tarben forced his simmering rage to calm so that he did not hurt Eivor, but he allowed just enough of his former self to show through that he saw a glint of surprise in Eivor's face. Tarben's hand wrapped around Eivor's throat and he could feel the other man's pulse beating beneath his thumb. He pressed down and squeezed.

“Are you mine, love?”

“Yes,” Eivor rasped, a smirk sliding over his handsome features. “Always.”

“Good,” Tarben answered, and he released Eivor's throat, but the other man snatched his hand and placed it back over his neck.

“I like it. More.”

“Alright,” Tarben answered. He squeezed carefully, cutting off just enough air and bloodflow to make Eivor feel euphoria. His head tilted back and he sucked in a hard breath beneath Tarben's fingers. Tarben's other hand set about stroking Eivor's cock and he matched the pace with lazy movements of his hips until they climaxed at nearly the same time, Eivor rasping a moan past Tarben's hand on his throat. Eivor's legs slipped down and he tipped himself forward, resting his head against Tarben's chest.

“I love you,” Eivor said.

“I love you too,” Tarben responded, taking a deep breath in through his nose. Even fucked out and sweaty, Eivor did not smell like Eivor.

Tarben had spent that night sleepless, staring at the ceiling of his bakery. Eivor frequently shared the bed with him, snoring fitfully next to him, and by the next day Eivor's scent was as it should be. But doubt had crept into Tarben's mind, leaving him wondering.

Several weeks after Eivor had returned from a wedding smelling like another man, he was off again, this time with Randvi. Tarben watched them go, laughing and jostling one another. It was just friendship, Tarben knew. But...he cracked his knuckles and shook his head at himself.

Tarben trusted Eivor. He did. But as he worked, he found his fingers kneading the dough more thoroughly than usual, slamming the ball of dough hard onto the same counter where he had fucked Eivor senseless. He imagined the unknown face of whatever person had left his scent on Eivor's flesh and his fingers sunk into the dough. He was grinding his teeth, the vein in his temple threatening to burst as it throbbed.

“Shit!” he cursed as he realized that the overkneaded dough had grown sticky from his cruel treatment. It clung to his fingers and he slung it with a wet _“plap”_ into the wall before pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger, cursing again when he realized he still had dough on his hand.

“Everything alright, Tarben?” Petra asked, peeking in.

“Fine, fine, just a...bad day.”

“Eivor back yet? I've been looking for him.” Tarben glanced at the sky behind her, realizing it was growing dark. His stomach knotted.

“No, not yet. I'll tell him you were looking for him.”

“Okay, thank you, Tarben.” With that, she was gone and Tarben was left alone to wonder, or assume, the worst. He squeezed his eyes shut. He trusted Eivor. Wanted him to be happy. Knew that he had to make political deals, had to fight and explore...perhaps Eivor thought that nothing was off-limits. Perhaps he would suck or fuck anyone he needed to in order to protect his people? And would Tarben be alright with that? The sick feeling in his belly told him no. He could tolerate a great many things, but what he wanted from Eivor was faithfulness. Surely it was not too much to ask?

As the sun slipped behind the hills and day became night, Tarben found himself curled alone in a cold bed, a tear sliding down his cheek before he angrily brushed it away.

Eivor returned to Raventhorpe the following morning, but Tarben watched him ride in, ignoring him entirely and instead storming to the longhouse. Whatever might have happened, Tarben would not throw himself at Eivor. He forced himself to work, mixing flour, kneading dough, carefully this time, forcing his emotions to steady. There was a soft knock at the door a long while later. Tarben released the dough and wiped his hands on a towel.

“Come,” he said simply.

“We need to talk.”

It was like a blow to the gut.

“Very well,” Tarben said, his voice shaking. He kept his eyes down, avoiding Eivor's keen gaze as they sat across from one another in the bakery.

“At the wedding...”

“I know,” Tarben murmured, his heart shattering.

“No,” Eivor said fiercely, “you don't know. Tarben, please look at me.” He waited for Tarben to comply. When he finally did, Tarben was surprised to find that there was a small smile on Eivor's face. “I know what has been ailing you. What has made you cold and unsure. At the wedding, Broder propositioned me...”

“Eivor, don't...”

“And I said 'no,'” Eivor interrupted, putting a hand on Tarben's knee. “And then last night, with Randvi...”

“Eivor...”

“Let me finish,” he said firmly. “Last night Randvi told me she wants me. It is clear there is a problem here.”

“I know. I don't blame you for wanting to...plant your oats in many fields, Eivor,” Tarben forced out, grief overtaking anger.

“Tarben,” Eivor said, grabbing his chin this time and forcing him to meet his eyes. He was smiling now, a wide grin that showed teeth. “The problem is that no one knows that we are together. I want you to come with me tonight, to the longhouse. Sleep in my bed. And in the morning...if you want...” he drew closer, sitting down on Tarben's lap, his arms crossed behind Tarben's neck, “we can announce a feast.” Eivor kissed Tarben abruptly, a soft, gentle kiss.

“A feast?” Tarben asked, looking into his eyes where he sat on his lap.

“A wedding feast,” Eivor said softly, reverently, as though he was afraid that speaking it too loudly would ruin its chances of becoming true.

Tarben's eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“If you'll have me...?”

“Of course I'll have you, my love. I am sorry...”

“It's already forgiven. Make no mistake, Tarben. I want you. Only you. For all my tomorrows.”

“Come here,” Tarben said, relief and happiness filling him as he pulled Eivor in for a rough kiss.

“Slow down. Time enough for that in the longhouse,” Eivor chided, standing and pulling Tarben to his feet. “You've work to get done, and I've several people to meet with. I'll see you tonight. Come just before dusk so that everyone sees you come with me to my room. I want everyone to know that I'm yours.”

That night Tarben wore his best tunic, a fine purple-blue thing with a silvery collar. His tights were carefully cleaned and his boots neatly oiled. His hair had been slicked back with oil and he had used a bit of rosemary oil to brush it before knotting it into a carefully formed queue. He had rinsed his mouth and cleaned his teeth twice, though he knew that he would be eating dinner with Eivor before they retired to bed. It seemed that, while not a feast, Eivor had invited a great many people to the longhouse to eat. He beckoned to Tarben to sit at his right hand and kissed him sweetly. There was a lull in conversation as a few surprised looks between people who did not know that Eivor was seeing Tarben realized what was happening.

“To friends,” Eivor said, raising his cup. The sentiment was echoed and Tarben joined in the toast, taking a deep gulp of cold beer. They ate dinner, chatting with others, a few people expressing their delight that Tarben had been able to tame Eivor. “You see,” Eivor whispered to him, “you're the only one who has my heart. Alright everyone,” he said, raising his voice and standing, “I have an announcement. “Tomorrow, we shall have a feast. It will be a fine thing, so wear your best clothing. And Dag, make sure to wash your ass so we aren't stuck with your stench!” There was raucous laughter at that. “Tomorrow's feast will be a wedding feast,” Eivor went on, raising Tarben's hand and beaming down at him. Tarben felt his cheeks grow crimson. “This is the man that I love, and I want the world to know it.”

“See now,” Eivor said softly where he lay on his bed with Tarben after their wedding feast the following evening, both of them nearly too drunk to see straight. “No one has any claim to me but you, my love.”

“I am sorry to have ever doubted you.”

“Hush,” Eivor told him, blowing out the candle that lit the room. In the darkness, they moved against one another, flesh tangling in the blankets, moans and grunts rising from their throats. “I am yours,” Eivor promised as he let Tarben press within him.

“Always?”

“Always. All of my tomorrows are yours, all of my yesterdays are less for missing you. Come here.” Tarben lost count of the number of kisses Eivor pressed against his skin, found himself sighing to the gods as Eivor worshiped him with his mouth, felt himself undone as Eivor's body slid against his own.

Tarben might have had his moments of weakness, doubting if Eivor truly wanted to be with him, but he had no doubt now as he found his pleasure within his husband, his fingers tangled in his hair, his lips against his pulse. Nothing could ever come between them again.


End file.
